The man started walking, while the girl kept a worried eye on me. With every step, I left a faint trail of blood on the ground. My wounds burned fiercely; even the slightest breeze stung. All I could think about was wanting to be home, away from this nightmare.

The man shook his head. “This won’t work…”

He seemed to notice my state and gently set me down on a large rock, crouching beside me. The girl joined him, her expression tightening as she examined my injuries. She lifted a torn bit of fabric to reveal the deep stab wound on my shoulder, then carefully turned me to inspect the bear claw marks along my back. She grimaced and exchanged a tense glance with her father. Though they didn’t speak, I could see the worry on their faces.

"He's losing blood too fast," she murmured, her voice tense. "I don’t know if he’ll hold on until we reach home."

“Can you manage a healing spell?” her father asked, his brow furrowed.

"I can try, but it won’t hold for long. He needs higher-level healing—spells I’m not ready for.”

Her father nodded, understanding. “That’s not good…”

She turned her gaze to me. “I’ll close your wounds as best I can, alright? But… it’s going to hurt.”

I managed a weak sound in response, but there was no strength left to object.

The girl rummaged through her backpack, pulling out a small kit. Inside were needles, thread, and a few basic tools. She threaded a needle, her hands steady but her face betraying a flicker of unease. Seeing her prepare to stitch me up, I tried to shake my head, a silent protest escaping in a faint gasp, but I couldn’t form the words.

She took a deep breath, positioning the needle by the edge of my wound on my shoulder. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“No… don’t—”

The needle broke through my skin, and a scream ripped from my throat. My fists dug into the rock, my nails scraping against it as her father held me steady, keeping me from thrashing in pain. I dared to look down, catching sight of the needle puncturing through the torn skin. Each stitch dragged the thread through the edges of the wound, drawing it tightly closed with a pull that felt as if my skin were being torn all over again.

“Crap!” She yelled. “This is a stab wound? The blade broke inside.”

“Get it out.” Her father replied. “Don’t pull it, you’ll hurt him more. Make it exit through the other side.”

“O-okay. I can do this.”

She grabbed a pair of tweezers and inserted them into the wound, forcing it open further. The searing pain made my body tremble, my fingernails digging into the rock beneath me as I tried to endure it.

Gripping a thin, splintered stick, she forced it deeper into the wound, tearing through layers of raw tissue with a wet, nauseating squelch. The jagged edges scraped against something hard—bone, maybe—and the grinding vibration sent waves of nausea rolling through me. Blood and bits of flesh bubbled up around the stick, dripping in slow, sticky streams that clung to her hands as she twisted it with grim determination. I could feel the blade moving… disgusting.

Finally, with one last effort, the blade emerged from the other side of the wound. She steadied her hands and carefully pulled it free.

"Done! I did it, Father!"

"That's my girl," he replied, pride evident in his voice. “Now stitch him up.”

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“Yes… yes, okay.”

The girl didn’t pause; her hands moved quickly, the needle slipping in and out with a nauseating rhythm. I could feel the fibers of the thread tugging at raw flesh, every pull forcing the skin to press together in a way that only amplified the pain. My breaths came in short, ragged bursts as I tried to hold still, but each stitch sent a fresh wave of agony up my arm, and it was all I could do not to wrench away from her hands.

“Ugh… shit. Shit…”

After four stitches, she cut the thread, exhaling in relief, her hands trembling just a bit. They propped me up, and she moved to the wound where the knife had exited. I tried to brace myself, watching as she gripped the needle and thread again, but the moment she pierced the other side of the wound, I was hit by another shock of pain. My muscles tensed so hard it felt like they’d snap, and my jaw ached from clenching my teeth.

Thankfully, she finished this side faster—just a few more merciless stitches, the thread biting in with each tug. When she finally cut the thread, I slumped forward, exhausted, my skin still throbbing from the fresh stitching. The whole process had left me weak and shaking, but at least the worst of it was over.

The man looked at the wound with a frown. “A stab wound… Thought you were attacked by a bear?”

My mind reeled for a moment, trying to catch up, but his words finally broke through the fog of pain.

“A… woman,” I managed, the words coming out broken. “In a cabin… eats dogs. She attacked me.”

The man’s eyebrows shot up. “A woman in a cabin?”

I nodded weakly. “Her name was Suzan.”

They exchanged glances before the man gently helped me back to my feet. I tried to stand, but my knees buckled almost immediately. He caught me, steadying me before lifting me onto his shoulder once more. My wounds were still seeping blood, but at least the worst one had been stitched shut. For now, all I could do was cling to consciousness as they carried me forward, hoping I’d make it to safety.

I lifted my head, squinting at the blood trail I’d left behind, then shut my eyes, breathing slowly to keep the pain at bay. I was barely hanging on, every step making the world tilt and blur.

The girl moved to my left, extending a hand toward me. A soft green glow pulsed from her palm, washing over me in waves. The spell was helping, just enough to keep me from drifting out of consciousness.

“You’re holding on, kid?” the man asked, glancing back.

“Barely,” I muttered.

The girl looked at me, recognition flickering in her eyes. “You’re the one my brother, Gabriel, spoke with in the tavern. He asked about your wound, right?”

She let her hand fall, ending the spell, her gaze lingering on me with concern. Her blonde hair swayed in the wind, and her eyes were as clear as the sky—Gabriel’s sister, I remembered now.

“Yeah,” I managed with a nod. “It was me.”

“How’d you end up here?” she asked. “And… who did this to you? I mean, it wasn’t just a bear who attacked you, right? You’ve been stabbed.”

“A woman named Suzan,” I repeated. “She… tried to butcher me. Like I was an animal.”

“Gods above,” muttered the man. “Are you serious?”

I gestured weakly at my injuries. “These don’t lie.”

The girl clenched her jaw, a look of resolve passing over her. “We need to inform the guards. And… your name?”

“Axel.”

She nodded. “I’m Jane, and this is my father, Kenneth. Hang in there, Axel.”

Kenneth shifted my weight slightly to make me more comfortable. “So… Suzan, huh? How’d you get away from that monster?”

I took a shallow breath, wincing. “Escaped. She chased me, but… then a bear showed up.”

Kenneth let out a low whistle. “That’s a hell of a story, son. Cannibal and a bear—sounds like the punchline of a bad joke.”

Jane frowned as she watched me sway, then reached up to place a hand on my forehead. “He’s shivering. And he’s starting a fever.”

“We’ll get you to a vailhouse soon, Axel. Just hold tight,” Kenneth assured me. He adjusted his pace, and I could feel his grip tighten, making sure I didn’t slip.

“It’ll be faster through the north gates,” Jane suggested, glancing toward the road. “Hio’s path is closer.”

Kenneth gave a nod of agreement.

I was about to ask what a vailhouse was, but the strength had already drained from me. All I could do was slump against Kenneth’s shoulder, trying to keep myself conscious.

“Ugh… what a nightmare,” I mumbled, barely aware of my own voice as the world continued to blur.

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